Harbouring its seed, the future form is making the best of available space. It sprawls out on its couch, suspended in its own atmosphere, breathing its own element.
Curled in a fist the future form sits tight in its shell – soon as the sun turns it will unclasp, exhale, its first exhalation a cloud of spores.
Its red-purple mud still wet, criss-crossed by an interweave of paths, the site of the future form waits for its design to take over. One shoulder bare, provocative, it wears a flapping plastic sheet, its fresh-hacked semblance still raw against the sky.
Under the covers of late shifts, the future form reassembles its streets, gathering districts like armies, shaking loose the crumbs of night trash.
Arranged to present the artifice of a loose-limbed nonchalance the future form is drawn out across the canvas in painterly molecules, each cavity become the facet in an intricate cabinet, rare furniture with limitless drawers.
Fungal in ditches, spreading, miasmic in tenements, curling, trapped in the weft root systems, brimming, studded into grass stems like a nucleic tattoo, spiralling, plastic in studios, replicating, storm-glass in cities, corralling, the future form drifts shape according to the weather.